


don't say a word

by terrifier



Series: Klaus Whump [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apocalypse, Blackmail, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Klaus Hargreeves Needs Help, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Muteness, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-04-21 21:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrifier/pseuds/terrifier
Summary: Inspired by the movie 'Don't Say A Word'When Four was younger, he remembered something important. Something he didn't realise he could have forgotten. Seven had powers. After confronting Reginald on the matter, Hargreeves made sure Four would never talk again.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Klaus Whump [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875406
Comments: 132
Kudos: 884





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't watched don't say a word, it doesn't matter because this story is only partially inspired by it. Still, if you want to watch the movie first, feel free because it's so good😊

When Four was younger, probably around five or six years old, something within him clicked. He didn't know what it was or why he had suddenly remembered, but he had. He didn't know how he'd forgotten either, but he suspects Three is the one to blame. He also suspects Three was the one to take Seven's powers away in the first place, no doubt under Reginald's orders.

Anyway, being the curious, yet protective sibling he had once been, Four had decided to confront his father on the matter and demand to know why he'd taken away Seven's powers because all it resulted in was an emotionless shell of the lovely girl she'd once been.

Reginald didn't like the fact that Four knew about Seven's powers, though, because he had raged and ranted and called Four a disappointment, telling him he constantly stuck his nose in where it didn't belong. And then, he'd come to some conclusion that, at the time, Four hadn't understood.

Then, Three was once again involved. She rumoured away his ability to talk whilst Four, upon realising what she was about to do, cried and pleaded. Under Reginald's orders, though, he knew there was nothing she could do so she had done it anyway and Four shut up.

After that, Four was sent away for extra precautions. At the time, he hadn't known what that word meant, but after years of hearing men and women in white scrubs use it when talking about him, Six had explained the word. It meant the measures taken to be sure not only he, but everyone else, was safe.

It had been terrifying when Six had shown up. Mostly because when he had, not only did Four not know who he was, but also because he hadn't said a word. He'd simply just sat there, in the corner of Four's room and stared at his feet. Four had tried to keep his distance from Six just like he had with every other ghost that showed its ugly face.

In time, though, he began to warm up to Six. Six wasn't like the other ghosts. He didn't scream or beg, or insult Four. He was nice.

When Four finally found who Six was (or Ben, as he was apparently called now), Four flipped. He let out silent screams and cries, and trashed his room in place of his missing voice. When the nurses heard the ruckus, they came running and sedated Four. Four passed out to the sight of Six's concerned face. 

When he woke up hours later, he had no choice but to listen to Six because he was strapped to a bed in the hospital wing. Six (Ben) apologised and then explained that his death had been his own choice, that he didn't regret it because he was at peace and had finally found Four. Four didn't know what that last part meant because he should have known where he was anyway unless Reginald hadn't told him, but he had reluctantly nodded and accepted the apology.

From then on, Four was only nineteen when Six appeared, his brother had stayed with him. Sometimes he would disappear, returning with updates on their siblings and how they were doing, but the fact still remained that Six hadn't really left his side in years. Four wasn't sure of his exact age, but Ben sometimes mentioned in passing that they were around thirty years old.

Four wasn't sure if he wanted to leave his current residence at the mental institution. It was the only place he knew. Yes, he vaguely remembered the Academy he'd lived at before and he remembered his siblings clear as day, but all he knew was the Institution. It might not be the best place and the nurses might hate his guts and treat him like crap, but it was all he knew.

He didn't think he'd cope in the outside world. 


	2. secrets best kept locked away

Four sat on the ledge of the windowsill in his room, his back pressed firmly against the wall. Six mimicked him on the other window ledge, facing away from Four with his own back against the wall. He'd been only quiet all day, hardly saying a word to fill the silence between them.

The city outside the window was alive despite the heavy fog hanging over it like a blanket. The fog didn't reach the windows Four and Six were sat in, giving them a clear view of the headlights from cars, guiding their way through the white blanket.

Four had only ever been outside in the real world a couple of times in his life. Once when he had been adopted by his father, though he didn't remember that at all. Merely figured he had to have been brought to the Academy at some point, which meant being outside. The second time he'd been outside was when he'd been taken to the mental institution. His memories from that day were kind of hazy and he could hardly piece them together, but he knew he'd put a fight.

Anyway, he'd only been outside a couple of times. He'd never really been in weather like the one outside. He'd never interacted with fog or heavy rain, or even snow. Six had recounted his own experience with snow in a wonderous voice, telling Four the way it felt on his face then melted was indescribable. It was a thousand times more pleasant than rain or wind.

Four had felt jealous of Six at that moment. It had been snowing when his brother had recalled his experience with it and Four had merely looked away and out of the window, watching the pure white snowflakes melt on the window.

The few times he'd experienced storms, thunder and lightning, he'd cowered in fear. The ghosts had been more active then, seeming to rejoice in the terrible weather. It had sounded like a cacophony of wailing ghosts and winds, and thunderous rain pounding on the windows, trying to gain his attention even as he hid and silently sobbed under the metal frame and thin mattress of his bed.

Six had tried to comfort him each time, but Four could never hear him over the rattling windows, booming thunder, and screaming dead. 

He loved snow and he hated storms. What he'd never experienced yet wanted to, was the peaceful blanket of swirling fog that coated the ground down below his second-story window. The civilians down in the streets seemed unbothered by it. Unfazed as they walked straight through the air swirling around them in unique patterns. 

Four wanted to walk through the fog. 

His hand lifted to hold the metal fence placed in front of the window as he stared down at the lights shining pathways through the fog. He tapped twice on the metal and then Six's face swam into view in front of him. He pointed down at the fog in question, requesting his brother tell him about it.

"It doesn't feel like anything," Ben started, "it's just moisture in the air and when you walk through it, it's cold, but it doesn't feel like anything at all."

Tilting his head in consideration, Four looked back down at the fog encasing the city below. Perhaps that's why everyone seemed to ignore its presence. Just like they ignored his presence.

"There's a quote I remember reading somewhere," Ben spoke up quietly. Four didn't turn away from the foggy city. "It goes, '_When fog invades the plains, everything disappears; everything but fog! When love invades the minds, everything disappears; everything but love!'"_

Now, Four stared at his brother, confusion tugging at his mind. He didn't get it.

* * *

By the time night fell and the darkness encased the city and most of the rest of the world, the fog had only grown thicker. It had finally reached the windows and Four could barely see the lights from buildings in the horizon. He couldn't see the ground below his window.

It was dark yet the lights in his room had been turned on to save him from the loitering ghosts in the corner of the room, waiting for the right moment to strike. It would never be the right moment, though, because he had the warm yellow from the light on the wall to protect him, just like he'd had nightlights back at the Academy. He thinks.

Either way, he was safe and the ghosts had once again been defeated. All but Six, of course, Six was his friend, his brother, and he would always be welcome under the light with Four. He wouldn't let his brother become victim to the monsters in the dark.

Beeping met his ears and he turned away the hidden city in the distance, facing the door to his room. A man stepped inside, a folder under his arms. Without asking, he sat down on Four's bed, the springs beneath him creaking their protests. Four watched him with suspicious eyes, alarm bells ringing clear in the back of his mind, warning him not to trust this man. He'd never seen or met him before.

"Hello, Number Four," the man said and it was obvious he was reading Four's name from the folder as if checking to make sure he was correct. The man rose an eyebrow to himself before moving his attention back to Four. "My name is Doctor Blackmoore."

Four shrugged and looked back at the fog. Six said it didn't feel like anything but how could something that thick and noticeable not feel like _something_? He had his doubts. Perhaps Ben simply hadn't tried hard enough to feel it.

"Now, Four, I have some good news and some bad news," Doctor Blackmoore continued.

A heavy sigh escaped Four and he once again turned to stare at the doctor. Six was back, sitting behind the man on the bed though he wasn't facing either of them. His hood was pulled up like it usually was when he was brooding, and his hands were fiddling in his lap.

With a gesture, Four asked Blackmoore to continue. 

"Would you like the good news or the bad news first?"

Four shrugged. It didn't matter much to him. 

"I'll start with the bad news first," Blackmoore decided.

Another lift of his shoulders.

"I'm terribly sorry to say, Number Four, but your father passed away last night," Blackmoore sighed with pitying, sympathetic eyes aimed directly at Four. Behind him, Ben's shoulders tensed. "It was a heart attack."

Something happened then that had Four furrowing his brows. He lifted a hand to his cheek and was met with moisture. He pulled it away and stared at it, at the drop of moisture gathered on the tip of his finger. His eyes burned and his vision was quickly clouding with tears.

He took in a shaky breath, his chest seizing as he tried to breathe, and wiped at his eyes quickly. Why was he crying? His relationship with his father had been rocky at best. The man had never been the best father, always labelling Four as a disappointment. He hadn't even visited Four in the twenty-plus years he'd been locked away in the mental institution.

So why was he upset? Did he actually miss the man? Did he miss being able to call someone father, having someone to look up to? He didn't know.

Doctor Blackmoore rose from the bed and stepped closer to Four. The latter wiped away the rest his tears and glared up at the man, daring him to come any closer. The man rose his hands and backed off, returning to the bed.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am," Blackmoore apologised again.

Four rolled his eyes and made a dismissive gesture. 

"Would you like the good news now?"

He once again shrugged. He just wanted the man gone. 

"Okay, well," Blackmoore opened up the file in his hands and consulted a small piece of paper in there with words scribbled on it that Four couldn't read from his position, "as your father has passed, the funds keeping you here have been stopped. Following this, your guardian, Dr Pogo, has requested you be sent back to the, um, oh, the Umbrella Academy to be looked after there. Wow, I didn't know you were one of the Umbrella kids."

Umbrella kids? What the hell did that mean? Four glared at the man and slid down from the window ledge. They wanted him to go home? After all these years, they'd finally decided they wanted him around after taking everything away from him. His home, his siblings, his mother, his fucking voice, his dignity. They wanted him fucking back.

Doctor Blackmoore rose to meet him eye to eye and closed the file. Four stared at the file and breathed in heavily.

"Four," Six's voice met his ears, but Four ignored him.

He reached for the file in Blackmoore's hands and tried to tug it away from him. He wanted to see the words for himself, to confirm that his fucking _family _wanted him home. If Pogo had really come to his senses following Reginald's death and realised what the man had done was fucking sick.

He pulled hard at the folder, but the man wasn't letting go so he yanked his hands away and watched the man stumble a little, the backs of his shins hitting the edge of Four's bed.

Changing his tactic, he grabbed the metal fold away chair from beside the bed and lifted it high above his head. His arms protested so much movement after sitting in the window all day with his knees drawn up, but he protested the man's presence even more and he needed to remedy it.

"Number Four!" Doctor Blackmoore shouted just before Four swung.

With a second before impact, the man managed to step out of the firing line and save himself. Four let go of the chair and it was sent skidding across the tiled floor of the room.

Four lunged for the file once again, trying desperately to take it. The man merely continued to keep hold of it.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind and, in his moment of distraction, Doctor Blackmoore managed to step back, away from Four and evade his grabbing hands. Four looked down at his waist and found the pair of gloved hands holding onto him. He immediately began clawing at them, trying to free himself from their grasp.

Two more hands took his arm, extending it, and then there was a pinching sensation in the crook of Four's arm.

He made a strangling noise, trying to tell them to let him go. Like every year, month, day, and second in the past, ever since Three stole his voice, it failed him once again and he was left speechless, trying to ask for things that he couldn't. 

"It's okay, Four, just relax," Ben's voice met his ears.

He sounded far away, underwater. Four breathed in heavily, tilting his head back as he pushed against the floor, against the hands restraining him.

He stomped on the floor with heavy limbs, trying to force the words out of his mouth.

Black swarmed his vision. It was getting harder to keep his head up so he simply let it fall, his chin touching his chest. Slowly, his eyes closed and he breathed out, relaxing against the arms holding him.

"It's okay, Four," Six reassured him.

* * *

"They want you home," was what Four heard as soon as he regained consciousness.

He managed to open his heavy eyelids despite his mind's protests against the idea. Sitting at the end of his bed was Six. His hood was down now, but he wasn't looking at Four. The room had no windows, unlike his own room which left Ben staring at the off white walls.

Four was lying down on a familiar bed, his wrists and ankles strapped down to prevent him from moving or hurting himself. He thought it was ridiculous. The only person he wanted to hurt right now was Doctor Blackmoore for not just giving him the file.

With a sigh through his nose, he nodded at Six. Though his brother wasn't looking at him, he was sure he'd seen it anyway.

"You can finally see our siblings again," Ben turned him.

Though the idea sounded promising, Four wasn't sure he wanted to see them.

He'd been in the institution for over twenty years now and they hadn't even come to visit him. Not once. Yes, okay, so he might have been taken away when he was around six years old, but that didn't mean he didn't exist anymore. And they couldn't have forgotten him, right? He remembered them as clear as day.

Six remembered him. He might not have recognised Six at first because they hadn't seen each other since they were children, but in the end, he'd remembered Six, too. So there was no excuse for his siblings to have not at least come to visit him even once in the twenty-odd years he'd been locked away.

Not even Two had come to see him. Back then, he remembered they'd been close. In a household full of judgement and competitiveness, he, Two, and Six had found friendship with each other. They held no hatred and bore no ill will against one another.

One had been too busy trying to impress dad and Three had been busy trying to get One's attention, and vice versa. At the time, none of them had known about Seven's powers, not even Four, so they'd all ignored her as an ordinary girl had no place in a household full of extraordinary kids. And Five, well, he simply thought he was better than them all. He had no time for them.

So, the Even Numbers Squad had stuck together, finding friendship and sticking together. 

Apparently, that hadn't lasted for long. Four had been the first to break up the squad when he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut and had angered their father. Then Ben died at nineteen and that left Two. As far as Six had said, he was still alive. His name was Diego now and he was doing vigilante work after being kicked out of the police Academy.

He didn't know why he'd been kicked out, but Two had always had a quick temper as far as he could recall. Always getting into fights with Number One, trying to take his place as dad's favourite. 

Four shook his head at Six, trying to portray that he didn't think he wanted to see them. 

After so long spent together, Ben seemed to understand.

"You don't want to see them?" He questioned.

Four shrugged.

"Why not? You haven't seen them in years."

He shrugged again. 

"Well, it doesn't matter," Six sighed, "the funds keeping you here have been stopped and Pogo wants you home. There's not much you can do."

Four closed his eyes and shook his head. Six was right.

* * *

Four didn't get any sleep that night. Technically he hardly slept anyway, what with the ghosts and his constant paranoia surrounding his current residence, but that wasn't the point. 

He felt sick. Nauseous at the mere thought of going back to the Academy. He wouldn't call it home because it hadn't been that in decades. Now, his home was the institution.

Ben assured him he'd be fine; that their siblings would be overjoyed to have him back. Four didn't believe that. They probably wouldn't even recognise him. The thought made his heart hurt and his throat constrict.

He was so conflicted.

He wanted to see his siblings, to go back to the Academy, but he also wanted to stay at the institution where he wouldn't have to face the confusion on his siblings' faces when he walked through the doors. The mistrust. The hatred, even.

He missed them and he loved them, but he didn't think he could face them.


	3. is this what I want?

The next day come around far too quickly for Four's liking. He wanted to hide under his bed and pretend the world didn't exist, that he was just floating in nothingness, if only it meant he wouldn't have to face his current situation.

Unfortunately, he did, and after a night without sleep, filled with the desperate cries of the dead and other patients in his wing, morning followed the rising sun and he was forced to crawl out from under his bed.

Immediately, he slinked over to the window on tired legs and hauled himself up onto the ledge. The fog was gone. Had probably disappeared last night whilst he was too distracted counting the seconds until morning to notice that it had packed its bags and ran away.

He wished he could run away, too, so he wouldn't be forced to go back to the Academy and mingle with people he barely knew anymore, who'd clearly forgotten his very existence. He wondered, forlornly, how long it had taken them to forget about him. To replace the memories of hanging out with him, of playing hide and seek with him, with new memories where he no longer existed.

He wanted to ask Six, to demand how long it took for them to write off his sudden lack of presence at the Academy. To shout at him, beg him to reveal why they'd never visited or released him sooner.

But he couldn't, so instead, he leaned his head on the metal grate in front of the window and watched a fancy black car pull up outside the Institution.

A blonde woman stepped out of the vehicle, wearing clothes that made Four slightly jealous and internally swoon. Following her, a man exited the car from the other side, shutting the door harshly behind him. He was wearing all black and there was something around his chest that Four couldn't identify properly. Finally, following the first two people, another man got out. He was large and easily more visible than the other two.

Six joined Four on the ledge, sitting centimetres away from Four's bare feet. He watched the three down below with bright eyes as they were led inside by a man in a tailored suit.

"That's Mom, Diego, and Luther," he revealed.

Four looked at him blankly. His memories of his mother were weak at best. He'd been so young and she had only been there a couple of years before he had been taken away.

Looking back down, though, and watching as she and his brothers stepped through the doors, he thought she looked kind. Loving. Everything he had ever dreamt of in a mother.

Outside, his family and Doctor Blackmoore disappeared from view. He remained on the ledge.

* * *

An hour later, longer than Four had expected, found him sitting inside a room he'd never been in before. It was kind of spacious with several chairs and tables scattered around carelessly. The walls were dirty and grey and the floor was cold on his bare feet. In the doorways, a couple of doctors and nurses stood, the one who usually dealt with Four when he lashed out. 

Across from him at the table he was sat at was his family. Number One sat hunched in his seat, looking uncomfortable as he attempted to make himself seem smaller. Mom was beside him, sitting daintily and smiling warmly at him. Two was on her other side, putting Mom in between One and Two. It seemed they were still on rocky grounds.

Doctor Blackmoore was beside Four, pulling out papers and laying them flat on the table. 

"Now, Number Four has been at the Institution for a long time, so there's quite a bit of paperwork to sign before I allow you to take him home," Blackmoore explained as he took out a final piece of paper and added it to the rest.

"How long will this take?" Two asked gruffly.

Four shifted and looked away. 

"It's okay, he's just anxious to get you home," Ben assured Four as Blackmoore revealed it wouldn't take too long.

"Now, this first document goes over any diagnoses Four has received and also goes further into his muteness-"

"Muteness?" One interrupted.

"Yes, no one told you?" Doctor Blackmoore asked.

"No, I mean, they did, just... It's kinda hard to hear it in person, you know?" One stumbled over his words then shrank even further into his seat.

"I see," Doctor Blackmoore nodded, "well, yes, Four is mute. Ever since his arrival here, he hasn't spoken a word to anyone. According to your father before his passing, Four experienced something truly tragic at a young age and has since then refused to speak."

At that, Four frowned and looked at Blackmoore. He didn't experience anything tragic. Not that he could remember anyway. The only thing he'd experienced that could rob his voice was his uncaring sister's catchphrase.

"Four?" Ben prompted worriedly.

Four looked up at him as the others continued to talk like he wasn't there, his frown still in place. He shook his head slightly, discarding Reginald's lie.

Six looked relieved, nodding his head and relaxing. 

"Just something else to add to the long list of lies, then," Six grumbled and sat on the edge of the table.

Shrugging, Four watched as his mom signed the first document after skimming over it with her eyes.

When she was done, Blackmoore put the document aside in a folder.

"Now, this document goes over the terms regarding Four's release," he explained and turned it around to face the others, "because both yourself and Doctor Pogo are trained in mental and physical health, we've decided to change it a bit."

As he began talking and going into further detail on the terms of Four's release, Four found himself getting lost in thought as he was prone to do, assessing his situation once again, for what felt like the hundredth time in the past day.

He still wasn't sure he wanted to go home. The feeling had only intensified when he was brought face to face with his family. Mom had brought him into a warm hug and told him that she'd missed his cheeky smile and never-ending energy in the household. Four didn't know what she meant. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled.

There was a sick feeling sitting deep in the pit of his stomach, filling it to the brim and making him want to turn away from his 'family' and throw up before it consumed him. It was making his hands tremble in his lap and his mouth dry. He could feel the urge to cry, to lash out and send everyone away so he could just _breathe for a second. _

He didn't want to go back. 

"And if you could just sign this form, please," Blackmoore requested, jabbing a piece of paper with his skinny finger, "this just confirms that I've been over everything and explained your son's condition to the best of your understanding."

"Of course," Mom nodded and scribbled her signature on the bottom of the page.

Blackmoore turned the sheet around so it was facing himself again and added his own signature on the paper, then dated it.

It was 2019.

The last time Four had been outside it was... Actually, he didn't know. 

He felt sick. 

He wanted to go back to his room, hide under his bed again, and cry. He didn't want to be anywhere near these strangers. He didn't want Two's confusing eyes on him or One's awkward nod of acknowledgement, and he definitely didn't want to be on the receiving end of Mom's warm, welcoming, non-judgemental smile.

With a deep breath, he wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to urge the nausea away before he really was sick. 

The movement was enough to catch Two's eyes and he quickly looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with him. There was a scar on the side of Two's head, long and thick. He wondered what had happened.

"Four, I'm going to need you to sign this form, just to prove that you consent to what's happening," Blackmoore gained his attention.

Looking up, he found that now it wasn't just Two staring at him. They all were. 

Blackmoore was holding a pen out for him to take, but he hesitated. He _didn't_ consent to this, but he had to sign the sheet. If he signed it, then he'd be a liar. It would be on paper for everyone to see. Number Four, not just the black sheep, but a liar too.

With still shaking hands, he took the pen from Doctor Blackmoore and brought the sheet closer to himself. Before he could do anything, he realised something. He didn't have a signature.

How could he sign it if he didn't have a signature? He'd never signed anything in his life. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd written his name. Could just about remember how to _spell _it. The last time he'd had an English lesson, or any kind of lessons that would further his education, had been at the Academy.

"What's the matter, Four?" Doctor Blackmoore inquired.

Four looked up at him, trying to convey through his eyes exactly what the matter was.

When the man didn't seem to get it, he pointedly looked down at the sheet then back at him. 

"Do you not know how to sign it?" Two's voice interrupted the silent staring contest between himself and the doctor.

He looked up and, as it was close enough to what the actual problem was, he shook his head.

"It's okay, just write your name on the line," Blackmoore told him.

Four looked at the paper, where he was supposed to write his name and sighed with frustration. He put the pen back to the paper just above the line and began writing his name.

By the time he'd managed to write '_Number Four_', about a minute had passed. The words were messy and shaky, but it was his name and he'd successfully complied. He placed the pen down on the paper and leant back into his seat, pulling his grey sleeves down over his arms, trying to hide from view.

"Right, now that that's done, let's move on," Blackmoore broke the silence and shoved the final sheet into the folder with the rest of the documents.

After that, Four zoned out again. Ben was talking in the background, over Blackmoore and the others, trying to calm him down but Four was hardly listening. He was grateful for any background noise that rivalled Doctor Blackmoore, but he wasn't really listening.

It had probably been another hour by the time Doctor Blackmoore wrapped things up and the dreaded time came for Four to leave with the unrecognisable people that were his family.

He reluctantly rose from his seat as Mom and Doctor Blackmoore continued the conversation regarding Four's medication and when he should take them. He would have rather stood by himself behind the chair he'd risen from, but Two clearly didn't sense that as he rounded the table to join Four.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, presumably meant to be comforting, but Four merely flinched in shock and stepped away from him. A warning look was sent towards Two, telling him that anymore touching wouldn't be welcomed. That, Two _did _get.

As Two rose his hands in surrender and One failed to hide a smug grin, Mom returned to them with a bag in her hand, most likely filled with Four's medication. He hadn't been paying attention. Blackmoore followed her over, a smile on his face.

"Are you ready to go home, sweetie?" Mom addressed Four.

Four looked between everyone, from Two to One, to Mom, and then Blackmoore, and finally back to Mom, then shrugged.

"Come on, Four, aren't you excited to finally be going home? From what I hear, you haven't been home in a long time," Blackmoore encouraged.

Four simply glared at him, jaw clenched, and resisted the urge to kick him in the shin or throw another chair at him.

"Come on, let's go, we're going to be late for dad's funeral," One spoke up, then turned to the exit.

"Yeah," Two scoffed, amused, "that would be really tragic."

"Don't start," Four heard as One and Two exited the room into the hallway, presumably leading to the exit.

"Come on, dear," Mom gently spoke and Four looked at her.

She was no longer smiling and there was something akin to sadness on her face. Four couldn't remember her ever being sad before, what with her being a robot programmed to take care of seven children and not feel anything. 

Guilt bubbled inside him at the thought of her sadness being because of him, so he sighed and nodded at her.

She led the way, making her way towards the doors leading to the hallway then holding them open for him. Four cast one last look around the room and at Doctor Blackmoore whom he'd only met the day before but had shown him more kindness than any of the other doctors, then followed his mother.

When they reached the hallway, Ben following silently behind them, Four hesitantly reached out and grabbed his mother's hand. She didn't say anything, only showing her acknowledgement with a small squeeze of his hand and her widening smile.

* * *

They arrived at the double doors that led outside a few minutes later and Four halted, pulling his hand out of his mother's hand with more force than was necessary. He could see how bright everything was, he could spot Two and One leaning against the doors to the car parked just outside the doors. In the distance, he could see the city that he'd spent most of his days staring at from his window.

The nauseous feeling intensified tenfold and Four wrapped his arms around his stomach, backing up. 

He couldn't do it. It was too much. Why the hell did he sign the form? He didn't want to leave.

"Breathe, dear, breathe, that's it, you're okay," Mom cooed, brushing his curls out of his face so he could see her.

He shook his head. He wasn't okay. Not in the slightest. 

"There we go, you're doing great, just breathe, in and out. There we go."

Slowly, he found that the sick feeling in his stomach began to subside. It still remained, but it was less intense. He swallowed, realising that vomit had begun rising in his throat, wanting to escape, then made a face.

Mom was still in front of him, her smile perfectly in place.

"Are you okay now, sweetie?" She asked.

Though he didn't feel in tip-top shape and still wanted to run away and hide from the general public, he found himself nodding anyway. He could see Six's hopeful face over Mom's shoulder, watching him with proud eyes.

"There's my little champ," Mom pinched his cheek and he startled, surprised for a moment. She didn't show any signs of being swayed by his reaction, though, as she took his hand in hers and began leading him to the doors.

This time, he didn't stop.

The second he stepped outside with Mom, he almost froze on the spot again. His feet were still bare and the concrete beneath his feet was hot from the blazing sun. He could feel the heat on his face, ten times more intense than any other time he'd sat in his window and pretended the glass wasn't separating them.

There was a light breeze in the air that ruffled his hair and had him breathing in on what felt like instinct. The air didn't smell like anything, but it was fresh. Better than the stale air inside the Institution.

He'd only ever seen his residence from an outside point of view once and even then it had been fleeting as he'd fought the hands trying to restrain him and lock him up, so he turned around and, this time, he took in every detail from the dull grey bricks to the giant sign above it.

It was horrible, yet he'd called it his home for so many years. 

"Are you ready to go?" Two asked, one arm resting on the open door to the car. One had gotten in as soon as he and Mom left the building.

Four cast one last look at the Institution behind him then turned and nodded reluctantly to his brother.

"Get in," Two ordered then and got inside the driver's side of the car.

Four blinked at his brashness but headed to the car anyway. He grabbed the handle and tugged it lightly, then a little more forcefully when the door didn't open. Mom got in the passenger's side, beside Two, leaving Four in the back with One. He left a space between them for Ben to sit in between them.

"I can't believe we're finally going home," Six breathed, resting his head against the seat.

Four turned away from him and looked out of the window, at the Institution. He watched it grow smaller and smaller as Two started the car and took off. 


	4. nobody even noticed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is like 5k words, a lot longer than i usually go for, but I couldn't find a place I wanted to stop it at, so this happened. 
> 
> Not proof read so any errors are accidental and I didnt notice them when writing this. Sorry.

Arriving at the Academy, like morning appearing, came too quickly. It seemed he had only been in the car for five minutes before they were pulling up beside the curb, though they had probably been driving for around an hour.

Four kept his hands protected in his sleeves. The more of his body hidden from view the better. If he could cover his entire face without walking into things, he would. He didn't want to see everyone else's confusing stares as he was guided out of the shiny car by Grace's hand on his elbow.

He didn't like being touched, would rather avoid it altogether, but the way Grace took his elbow in her synthetic hands, too gentle to be real, he believed he could handle it.

The bag of medication was still in Grace's free hand while she led him up the stone steps and to the double doors of the Academy. The windows were stained, a detail Four couldn't remember yet seemed familiar. Like they could never have been anything else.

Another vehicle drove down the street behind Four and he tensed, turning away from the doors to watch it zoom away carelessly. It was loud and not at all like the muffled noises of other vehicles outside the one he'd been inside previously.

Turning back, he allowed Grace to lead him inside the huge building. 

The second his bare feet touched the cold wooden floors of the Academy, his stomach turned and a hand flew to his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he could see Two and One take instinctive steps back, but they were in luck as Four barely managed to swallow the vomit back down with a grimace. 

"It's okay, dear," Grace cooed kindly, "you're home now. There's nothing to be worried about."

Four wanted to reply with something along the lines of, 'there's plenty to worry about' or, more petulantly, 'you don't know how I'm feeling', but he couldn't, so he simply followed her lead and let her take him through the house, everything coming back to him in fuzzy memories or feelings of nostalgia- something he hadn't felt in years.

One split off somewhere along the journey, clearly not wanting to be in Four's presence any longer, but that was okay because Four didn't want to be near him either. His huge build intimidated Four and made him want to curl into a ball and cry a waterfall.

Four had never seen a waterfall, but Ben said he had seen one once, and described its beauty with shining eyes and a smile. 

If he had a chance to see one in person, Four would take it in a heartbeat. He had to wonder where the nearest waterfall was. 

Soon enough, he, Two, and Grace (plus a silent Ben) arrived in what Four sort of recognised as the kitchen. It was a chilly room in what would have been a large basement had it not been converted into the kitchen.

Nonetheless, Grace guided him over to the table and sat him down in one of the seats. His eyes followed Two as the man moved to sit across from him.

"Would you like something to eat, dear?" Grace addressed him as she put his medication in one of the cupboards.

Four watched her with curious eyes and when she turned to look at him, he shook his head. He didn't feel hungry. He just wanted to be alone so he could curl up and listen to Ben's calming words. 

"Are you sure? Doctor Blackmoore mentioned the other nurses saying you didn't eat much," Grace commented with concern. Two rose an eyebrow at him. "A growing man like you needs to eat regularly to grow big and strong. If I recall correctly, you used to love waffles. Do you want some?"

Again, Four shook his head with pursed lips then flickered his eyes to Ben. His brother was leaning against the counter and looking around the room with an expression Four couldn't recognise.

When he saw Four watching him, he focused his attention on him and spoke.

"You should eat something," he advised, "you didn't get the chance to eat anything today."

For the third time, Four denied the request and wrapped his arms around his waist. 

"Okay, do you want to go to your room?" Two suggested instead.

With confusion, Four frowned at Two then rose an eyebrow in question. How long had they been expecting Four to come back? When did they prepare a room for him? He would have expected to have to wait for a room to be prepared, not to already have one the second he arrived at the Academy.

Two shrugged. 

"You've had a room since you left. Dad wanted to get rid of it but Six and I wouldn't let anyone go in there. In the end, it was just left as it was. Mom cleaned it all the time until Dad made her stop," at that, Two looked upset, but he quickly recovered.

Four could vaguely remember his bedroom from his childhood. It had been small, like all of his siblings' rooms had been, except maybe One's room. It had been a little bigger than everyone else's. Four's bedroom walls had been painted some version of a pale yellow and he had used to write on them. He couldn't remember what, but most of the wall beside his bed had, had writing on it.

The room had never been kept tidy because he never has time to clean it, what with all of his lessons and training. He only ever got about thirty minutes of free time and he would always spend that playing with his siblings.

Whenever Grace cleaned it for him, it hardly ever lasted. He would get angry at the ghosts for never shutting up and constantly insulting him, and lash out by throwing whatever he could get his hands on in the ghosts' general direction.

"Four?" Two prompted when Four gave no answer.

Four though back to what he'd been asked, and slowly nodded his head

"Okay, come on," Two said.

He got up from his seat, thanked Grace, and then led Four out of the room. Thankfully, he didn't try to touch him like Grace had done because Four had, had enough of people touching him for the next decade. 

He wad led back out of the kitchen and up the stairs, through to the foyer, and then to the large staircase leading to the second floor.

"I don't know where the others are," Two said as they began to climb the carpeted stairs, "probably in their old rooms. Or celebrating dad's death."

Four was sure that was supposed to be a joke, but he didn't find it funny. Why would they celebrate their father's death? After all the man had done for them, they should be paying their respects. Even after what Reginald had done to him, Four understood that.

"Your room is just down here," Two announced when they reached the hallway at the top of the stairs.

There was a round chair in front of a wall filled with all kinds of beautiful paintings. He couldn't remember the paintings from his childhood, but he remembered the chair. It was where Grace slept. Or charged. Something like that. 

Two touched his elbow, encouraging him to continue walking, but Four snatched his arm away with a warning look then continued the journey by himself as Two held his hands up in surrender.

He wasn't sure exactly where he was going, but quickly enough, Two caught up with him and guided him down to the end of the hallway. 

There was a door on the left and further down the right, at the other end of the corridor, a bathroom with the door open. 

The hallway was dim, the lights barely doing their job of allowing them to see. With the tiled floor of the corridor, Four was reminded of the Institution. He scrunched up his toes, relishing in the smooth, cold feeling of the white tiles on his bare feet.

"I think the door's been locked for a while now, but I can get it open," Two drew Four's attention back to him.

Four had expected him to bring out a key from his pocket and unlock the door, but what Two revealed instead was much more worrying.

Looking far too casual for a man who had just brought a knife out of his pocket, Two put the sharp end into the keyhole and began jiggling it about.

"It's okay," Six reassured Four, "he's just unlocking the door. He won't hurt you."

Four hadn't even realised his hold on his arms had tightened.

Almost a minute later, there was a click that felt too loud for the silent corridor. Two straightened up from his position knelt on the floor and used the handle to open the door.

As the door swung open, Four was able to see the room behind it. Cautiously, after a questioning glance at Two, he stepped passed the man that was supposed to be his brother and slowly entered the room.

It was bright, with the curtains open and the light streaming through the windows to illuminate the room. There was a bed in the corner, pushed up against the wall in a position Four remembered. Unfortunately, whilst it had been made, there was a very thin layer of dust covering the blankets. In fact, Four could see dust particles floating about the room in the light.

Looking around, he realised that the entire room was dusty. 

Despite that, he moved further into the room and crossed it until he was sat on the bed. It was soft. More comfortable than his bed at the Institute. 

Two was still lingering in the doorway, watching him with something unreadable.

After a nod from Four, the man joined him on the bed. 

"Six and I used to sneak in here when we didn't have training," Two spoke softly, "we didn't know what had happened to you. Dad never said. Just that you had gone away for a while. You never came back, though."

Guilt bubbled in Four's stomach and he turned to look at his lap instead of Diego.

"We would read the writing on the wall," Diego continued, "we thought it might have some clues as to where you were, but we could never figure it out. We stopped after a while when Dad figured out we'd been coming in here."

Four nodded in understanding. The last time he'd angered their father, he'd been sent away.

"Wh-why did d-dad send you aw-w-way?" Two questioned.

At that, Four looked up again and at Two. Anger burned in his chest and he threw himself to his feet. He pointed at the door, ordering Two to leave. 

"Four," Six said, "he's not trying to be mean. He just wants to know. We both do."

"Y-you want me t-t-to leave?" Two asked.

With a nod, Four pointed at the door again with more vigour. 

"Fine," Two huffed and got up, "but the funeral is in an hour so don't be late."

And with those words, Two stalked out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Four jumped, not expecting it, before recovering.

A breath escaped him and he returned to his seat on the bed.

"You didn't have to do that," Six sighed, joining him on the bed.

Four shook his head. Six didn't know anything.

_"If you tell anyone about what you've learned today, your siblings will be punished."_

* * *

In the hour Four had before he had to go and attend the funeral, he went through his younger self's things. There wasn't much, presumably because he'd been so young when he'd been forced to leave, but he found some drawings hidden in the back of his clothing draws. Each drawing was of what he believed to be ghosts. He couldn't remember ever drawing them or even the ghosts themselves, and while the drawings weren't amazing, a shiver still ran up his spine at the sight of red crayon covering each figure.

After rummaging through the room, trying to bring back any memories surrounding his past, he sighed and threw himself on the bed.

The thought of attending his father's funeral and having to face the rest of his siblings other than One and Two made him feel sick. He hadn't even wanted to come home, let alone socialise with people he didn't know.

The room suddenly fell dark and Four frowned, looking about in confusion. His eyes fell to the window and he sat up and peered out of it to see the sky. It was no longer clear. It was blanketed with angry grey clouds and flashes of blue that began in the centre of the courtyard.

That thought gave him pause and he looked down to the courtyard where a large ball of blue _something_ was formed.

"What the hell is that?" Six demanded, suddenly by Four's side.

Four startled then looked at Six and shook his head with wide eyes.

Something whizzed passed his face and hit the wall behind him and he ducked as something else followed it.

"What the..." Six trailed off.

Four looked up to see a pencil sharpener and pen stuck against the wall, seemingly defying gravity. 

"We should go take a look," Six said urgently as he glanced back out of the window.

Four defiantly shook his head, giving Six a look that suggested he was mad. 

"Come on, we have to. Our siblings are out there!"

Four didn't know what the hell Six wanted him to do about that considering any training he'd ever received as a child was buried at the back of his mind in a dusty box full of other information that he hadn't needed in over two decades.

Either way, he rose to unsteady feet anyway and made his way to his door. He slowly opened it, but with impatient encouragement from Six, he began to move faster.

It seemed like muscle memory led him through the house as he ran in his panic to reach the courtyard. He couldn't consciously remember the exact way through the house and out of the backdoor, but his adrenaline gave him no time to pause as he moved faster than he had in years.

All too soon, he reached the courtyard just in time to see a young boy in a suit fall out of the blue swirls hovering in the sky and land on the concrete floor in front of who he assumed were the rest of his siblings. 

The boy slowly rose to his feet, but Four, at the back of the small crowd, couldn't see him properly. He could just about see the top of his head so he quietly shuffled around the others until he was standing on the right of whom he believed to be Number Three.

He peered around her shoulder and then gawped at the sight before them all. 

"Five?" He mouthed to himself.

"Is that Five?" Six breathed in disbelief.

Four shrugged, unknowingly. 

"Five?" The shorter girl off to the left (Number Seven?) inquired.

Five looked down at himself in confusion, then back up at the rest of them. 

"Shit."

* * *

Before anyone else could say another word, little Number Five moved passed them all and made his way into the house. The others were all left to follow.

Four hesitated in the courtyard, now bright again, unsure if he should tag along. The others either hadn't seen him as they all gaped at Five and trudged after him, or they didn't care for his presence. 

He didn't know what to do. 

"Aren't you going to follow them?" Six asked.

Four startled, as he always did when Six silently appeared behind him. He glanced at a statue on the other side of the courtyard. He was sure it was supposed to look like Six, but he found it didn't.

With an anxious breath, he shuffler across the courtyard and back into the house. 

When he entered, the kitchen fell silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over at him.

With the spotlight suddenly on him, Four wrapped his arms around his torso in an attempt to calm his rioting stomach. The sickness from earlier had returned and he felt like he was going to keel over and, not vomit, but die.

He swallowed, his already dry throat feeling like like sandpaper.

"Four?" Five questioned unsurely.

Four nodded his head, just as unsure. 

"Oh, my God," Three muttered, but Four kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him.

He wasn't sure he could look at Three and not lash out in anger after what she'd done to him.

"When did you get here?" Three continued.

"Luther, Mom, and I went to pick him up a few hours ago," Two answered.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Three asked.

"Would you have cared?" Two challenged.

"Of course I would!"

"Yeah? Cause it seems to me, you never cared when Four was taken away. In fact, you were happier without the competition," Two snarled.

"For God's sake," Five whispered to himself as he continued making a sandwich.

"Competition? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Three demanded whilst rising to her feet.

"You never cared when Four disappeared! You never tried to look for him like me and Ben! You didn't try to look for Five either!"

"That's a lie! Of course I cared! Just because I didn't obsess over their disappearance like you, doesn't mean I didn't care! They're my brothers, too!" Three retorted.

Before Two could get another word in, Four grit his teeth and grabbed the nearest item. It was a porcelain vase, decorated with pale blue flowers. He tossed it across the room with as much strength as he could muster, and watched as it shattered against the opposing wall.

Everyone stopped. 

Two and Three turned to look at him, Seven jumped in alarm, Five rose an impressed eyebrow, and One stared wide-eyed at him.

The quickest to recover was Five, who simply cut up his sandwich and took a bite, but One was the first to speak and break the silence.

"Four's right, we shouldn't be arguing," he sighed.

"He didn't say anything," Seven pointed out as Three sat back down beside her. 

One and Two shared a look.

"Actions speak louder than words," One muttered.

"He's mute," Two explained, casting a look at Four before returning his eyes to the others.

"Interesting," Five mused around his food, "I remember you always talking. You loved to be the centre of attention."

Four shrugged awkwardly. He didn't remember that. He couldn't even imagine wanting to be the centre of attention. For example, right now, he wanted to shrink until no one could see him and then just run away, never to return.

"Things change," Two said almost sadly, though his expression was neutral.

"Apparently," Five said, "anyway, I have things to do."

He traipsed to the exit, but before he could leave, One stood. 

"Are we not going to talk about what just happened?" He demanded.

Five ignored him, picking up his sandwich, and turning to leave. 

"It's been seventeen years!" One called.

Surprisingly, Five stopped and turned to face them all. 

"It's been a lot longer than that," he revealed, striding back over. 

"Where did you go?"

"The future," something flickered across Five's face, but then it was gone in a flash, "it's shit, by the way."

If Four could, he would let everyone know that he had called it. The future was always destined to be "shit". There was no question about it.

"I should've listened to the old man. Jumping through space is one thing. Jumping through time is a toss of the dice."

"How did you get back?" Seven asked.

"In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time," Five shrugged.

"That makes no sense," Two shook his head.

"Well, it would if you were smarter."

Two rose from his seat, clearly intending bodily harm, only to be prevented by One's large arm on his chest. Reluctantly, Two lowered himself back into his seat for the second time.

"How long were you there?" One asked Five next.

"Forty-five years, give or take."

Four's eyes widened in shock and he distantly registered One falling back into his own seat.

It was too much, Four decided. Coming back to the Academy was one thing, dealing with all of their weird, superhero, time travel stuff was another. He didn't want to get involved in any of it. 

"You're going good," Six muttered beside him. Four nodded. 

"So, what're you saying? That you're fifty-eight?" One questioned in just as much disbelief as Four felt.

"No, my consciousness is fifty-eight. Apparently, my body is thirteen again."

"How does that even work?" Seven asked.

"Delores kept saying the equations were off," Five shrugged, "bet she's laughing now."

"Delores?" Seven repeated.

"Guess I missed the funeral," Five noted as he picked up the newspaper from the table.

"How'd you know about that?" One asked.

"What part of the future do you not understand? Heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah," Two agreed, only for One to counter it with denial.

Four didn't understand what was going on now. 

"Nice to see nothing's changed," Five hummed. Briefly, his eyes found Four's, but just as quickly, he looked away.

With a shrug, Five turned back around and began to leave again. He didn't say anything. 

"What, that's it?" Three demanded this time. "That's all you have to say?"

"What else there to say? Circle of life," Five called out.

"Well," One said in an attempt to break the silence that had fallen following Five's departure, "that was interesting."

Four couldn't help the amused almost-smile that made its way onto his face. Quickly, he smothered it with a frown.

While they were talking and mulling over what had just happened, he managed to silently exit the kitchen and follow the directions Six was giving him back to the bedroom.

* * *

Almost another hour had passed before the funeral that was supposed to have happened a while ago, if not for Five's reappearance. By the time the funeral rolled around, the skies had clouded and the rain was falling hard on the ground and any other surfaces it could reach.

Before he could take a step outside, an umbrella was placed into his hands by Seven. He stared at it for a couple of seconds in confusion then remembered how to use it. He took a step outside and put the umbrella up to cover his head. It was larger than he expected, but the way the rain pelted on its matte black surface somehow calmed him.

His feet were still bare as he crossed the courtyard, but he didn't care. He found he liked the feel of the wet concrete beneath his feet and no one else had said anything so he didn't put any shoes on to protect them.

Across the courtyard, Ben's statue was covered in water and tiny droplets that resembled tears. Six was staring at it almost sadly, but Four didn't get a chance to see if he was okay because he quickly looked away and at Number One who was standing in front of them all.

Neither One or Two had umbrellas. They were quickly getting soaked. Two looked like an angry cat who had been left out in the rain by accident, whereas One simply looked sad.

The group waited around in silence, the only noise being rain attacking the ground until another noise joined it. The sound of something tapping the ground. Four looked up and to his left to spot a monkey with a cane and umbrella, wearing clothes and a monocle, hobbling over to them all.

Despite the unusualness of it, Four found he wasn't surprised. His mind supplied him with a name fairly quickly and he recognised the monkey as Pogo. For years he'd tried to tell himself that there was no way he could have had a monkey butler able of human speech, yet here he was.

Pogo glanced at Four with pursed lips and relief on his lined face, then turned to One. 

"Whenever you're ready, dear boy," he told One.

One nodded and hesitantly turned to the ashes. He lifted his large gloved hand and removed the lid of the urn. With a deep breath, he extended his arm and tipped the urn upside down to empty it of the ashes.

Instead of floating away in the wind like ashes were probably supposed to do, they all fell to the ground in a sad pile due to, well, the lack of wind.

Four winced and tugged at the collar of his light grey jumper.

With an awkward cough, One looked up at everyone.

"Probably would have been better with some wind," he attempted to lighten the situation.

"Does anyone wish to speak?" Pogo addressed them all.

There was an awkward silence as everyone kept their mouths closed and stared at each other.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Pogo went on. 

"Very well," he said, "in all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master and my friend, and I shall miss him very much."

Four looked down at his soaking feet, coated with specks of mud. His vision blurred and his throat burned horribly. When he blinked, his vision wad cleared, but his tears joined the rain on the already wet ground.

With pursed lips, he looked back up and blinked away the rest of his tears. He ignored the frowns he was receiving from Five and Six.

"He leaves behind a complicated legacy-" Pogo continued.

"He was a monster," Two interrupted him, "he was a bad person and a worse father. The world's better off without him-"

"Diego," Three tried.

"My name is Number Two," Two told her, "do you know why? Because our _father_ couldn't be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it."

Four looked over at Grace. He hadn't thought about it really because he still saw his siblings as who they'd been before he'd been taken away, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd assumed they'd all given themselves names. Not that Grace had done it. Six had never mentioned how they'd gotten their names, either. Just that they now had different ones.

He felt something like jealousy build in the back of his mind and he looked away from Grace to Number Two. He was still ranting.

"Look, you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead, but at least be honest about the kind of man he was."

"You should stop talking now," One told Two.

"You know, you of all people should be on my side here, _Number One_," Two replied.

"I am warning you," One grit out.

"After everything he did to you," Two continued, "he had to ship you a _million_ miles away."

"Diego, stop talking!"

"_That's_ how much he couldn't stand the sight of you!"

In a turn of events too quick for Four to comprehend, One swung at Two, intending to hit him, only for Two to dodge the attempt.

Okay, it was definitely too much. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stay at the Academy with all of their- their _everything_. He couldn't deal with the blue portals in the courtyard and younger versions of his brothers dropping out of them, he couldn't take Three pretending she didn't know she'd stolen his voice, and he couldn't stand One and Two's fighting.

He couldn't do it.

He took an instinctive step back, distantly aware of the fighting still going on and Five heading back inside. 

He could hear Ben talking to him, and he could hear his heartbeat.

It was fast.

Thudding in his cheat like a drum, trying to escape its confines. 

He took in a deep breath. 

No, he didn't. He couldn't breathe. 

A hand went to his chest, trying to feel where the air was getting stuck on its way to his lungs. He hit his chest. Once, twice, trying to get the oxygen moving again, but he couldn't. It wasn't working. 

In the background, he could hear Vanya shouting. Feel someone's hand on his arm. Not Grace. Or Ben, or even Diego. He was still fighting Luther. 

Why was this happening to him? Why did they want him to come back? Couldn't they see he didn't want to be there?

"Breathe," someone's voice tried to break through his consciousness. It was feminine. It didn't sound like Vanya, but he couldn't be sure. 

Was it Allison?

Was she taking away his voice again?

He wanted to fight back, to tell her to go away because she wasn't taking his voice this time, but words failed him. Had she already done it? Had she already taken his voice?

"Four, it's okay," Ben's voice met his ears this time, louder than the others somehow, "they're not fighting anymore. You're okay. You're safe."

Four scrunched the fabric up of his jumper in his hands and took in a deep breath. This time it travelled successfully down his windpipe, feeding his starving lungs.

He continued to breathe as he looked up and noticed that, true to Six's words, One and Two had stopped fighting. They'd moved a bit closer to Four, both looking confused and mildly concerned.

Looking down, he noticed it was Three's hand on his arm so he quickly snatched it away and nursed it as if he'd been burned. Seven was standing beside her, along with Grace, and they both looked worried. Pogo was gone.

"Are you okay?" Seven asked quietly.

Four almost didn't hear her over the sound of the rain hitting his umbrella. Still, he nodded in response. 

"Jesus," Two sighed and shook his head.

"I think it's time for your medication, Four," Grace suggested and stepped closer to him.

He almost took a step back, an automatic response to anyone trying to come near him, but instead, he pursed his lips and jerked his head in a second nod.

With a smile in place, Grace gestured for him to go first and when he did, the sound of her heels followed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter😊


	5. i dont understand this

After taking his medicine thanks to Grace, Four left the kitchen and wandered upstairs. He contemplated going to his room, but he couldn't stand the sight of the writing on the walls or the thin layer of dust coating the furniture. 

Instead, he passed by his room and, after a moment's hesitation, entered Ben's. It was different to his own. The bed was in a different position and instead of vinyls, books filled his bookcase.

Ben followed him tentatively into his room and then sat on the bed. The mattress didn’t dip under his weight so Four joined him on the bed.

”I haven’t been in here in a long time,” Six said.

Four nodded his agreement. He hasn’t been anywhere in a long time, always confined to the same four walls.

Ben rose from the bed and made his way over to the bookshelf where he knelt down and ran his fingers over the spines of his multitude of dusty books.

”This one was always my favourite,” he said, fingers hovering over a thick book.

Four couldn’t read what it said, but he got up and knelt beside Ben. He looked at the book, trying to put the letters together to make understandable words, but they didn’t make sense to him.

Still, he grabbed the book and returned to the bed where he opened it up and held it on his lap for Six to read.

Clearly sensing what he was doing, Ben nodded and joined him back on the bed to begin reading the book out loud.

* * *

About an hour later and they were only quarter of the way through the book because Ben had to keep stopping to explain what certain words meant.

Either way, Four was enjoying the book and Six was very patient with him. He seemed to be enjoying the book as much as Four.

”Okay, turn the page,” Six told him.

Four obeyed and flipped the page, revealing more words that made his mind go funny.

_Knock knock knock_

Four tensed up and turned his head in the direction of the bedroom door. Beneath it, he could just about make out a shadow on the other side.

He looked at Six and nodded towards the door. Ben sighed and got up, then disappeared through the door.

_Knock knock_

”Four?” A female voice asked just as Ben reappeared.

”It’s just Allison,” Six informed him.

Four sighed, deciding whether or not he wanted to speak to any of his siblings, let along Allison who could make him do whatever she wanted at any moment.

”It looks like she wants to speak to you,” Six said.

Four rolled his eyes and got up, closing the book and placing it down as he did so. He made his way to the door and then pulled it open, revealing who Six had said it was.

”Hey,” Allison greeted him with a smile.

Four smiled awkwardly back.

”Can I come in?” She asked.

Four shrugged. It wasn’t his room, but he let her in anyway.

”Thanks,” she said as she took a seat on the bed. Four lingered by the door.

”Sit next to her,” Six encouraged from just behind him.

Slowly, Four shuffled over to the bed and lowered himself onto it, keeping a safe distance, however.

”I thought you’d be in here,” Three said, “as far as I remember, you and Ben were always close.”

Four shrugged, eyes locked into Six. His brother looked sad as he nodded his agreement. He personally couldn’t remember that much, who he was or wasn’t close with.

”So, what are you doing in here? I don’t think I ever came in here more than once or twice,” Three continued.

Four held up the book he’d been reading.

”Is that Ben’s?”

Four nodded.

”Huh. What’s it about?”

Turning the book around, Four let her read the back where it explained what it was about. 

”Oh, dragons. I remember Ben used to love dragons,” Three smiles fondly.

”I did,” Ben agreed.

”What about you? What kind of books do you like?” Three asked.

Four shrugged then shook his head. He hadn’t read a book since he was a kid, and back then he was sure it had been about the best fighting techniques. Not that he could remember any of them, so fat lot of good they had been.

Three sighed, “you know you can talk to me.”

Four looked at her with confusion.

”You’re not incapable of talking, Four, you just won’t do it,” she said with frustration, “you used to talk so much when we were younger. We could never get you to shut up.”

That didn’t sound like him. He’d rather not talk at all if he could help it. Not that he had a choice, anyway.

”I think the only time you ever shut up was when dad made me rumour you to be quiet during lessons,” Three said, “one whole hour of peace and quiet.”

Four frowned. Was she mocking him? Did she know he was still under the influence of her rumour, even decades later?

”Look, come on, Four, just say something,” Three stood up and loomed over him. “This is getting ridiculous.”

How the hell she expected him to say anything when she’d rumoured him into being quiet was beyond him. His brows furrowed with annoyance as he glared at her, trying to pass the message on that he literally could not speak and that it was her fault.

Ben took Three’s seat beside him now that she was standing.

”You know, you were always like this, even when we were kids,” Three muttered, just loud enough for both Four and Six to hear, “you never knew when to stop. When the joke had stopped being funny. Well, newsflash, Four, this- _this_ isn’t funny. I can’t imagine it ever being funny.”

As quick as a flash, Four had risen to his feet, the beginnings of a sentence forming in his mind before he remembered he had no way of getting it across.

She was right, though. It had never been funny. If she was right and he had never shut up when they were kids, then how did she think he felt when his ability to talk at all had been ruthlessly stripped away from him? How could that have ever been funny?

”You know what, this is ridiculous,” Three sighed, “I wasn’t going to do this anymore, but this is getting old. _I heard a rumour..._ _that you said something_.”

Four’s heart skipped a beat with the words that haunted his dreams second to his father’s miserable voice. Had she just...?

”Fuck you,” Four meagrely croaked out against his will, the simple effort it took to say those two words making his throat burn like an inferno.

Three’s eyes widened in response, as if she hadn’t expected him to say anything like that to her. As if she had thought she was doing him a favour rumouring him for a second time.

Quickly, Four angrily pointed to the door and attempted to speak again.

”Out,” he tried to say but it came out more as a croaky noise that was supposed to be a word.

Three seemed to understand either way, guilt dawning on her face, as she hurried out of the room with a brief, quiet apology.

Once she was gone, Four collapsed to the floor in front of the bed, his back hitting it as he meant back with a quiet _thud._

From the corner of his eye, Four saw Six sliding off of the bed to sit beside him, his own back resting against it.

”Did she just...?” Six questioned, letting the end of his sentence taper off.

Four nodded, lips pursed.

”Can you still talk?” Six prompted with eagerness evident in his tone.

”Yes,” Four said.

Words still stung his throat as the scraped their way out through to his mouth, but he supposed that was because he hadn’t spoken in God-knows how many years. Maybe they would hurt less the more he talked.

But did he even want to talk? After so many years of being mute, it was second nature to him to just not say a word.

”Four, this is- this is amazing,” Six grinned as he rose from the floor to stand in front of him, “you can talk.”

Four shrugged in response.

”Out,” he ordered. Better make good use of his voice while he still had to. Who knows how long it would take before Three realised what she’d done and got rid of it again. Like she’d said, he spoke too much.

”Out?” Six asked.

Four nodded.

”Think. Alone.”

”Oh okay,” Six nodded his understanding, “well, I guess I’ll just go wandering. See what the others are doing. I’ll be back soon to see how you’re doing, okay?”

Four shrugged and kept his eyes focused on the floor until Six had left.

Once he’d disappeared through the closed door, Four reached behind him under the bed and moved his hand around until he found something soft.

He brought it out and in front of him and found himself face to face with a stuffed toy he’d spotted under the bed earlier when he’d let Three in. He’d recognised it the second he laid eyes in it as the toy unicorn he’d been obsessed with as a child.

Whenever the ghost got too loud or overwhelming, he would lay in bed with his fairylights on and his stuffed unicorn pressed tightly to his chest for comfort. He didn’t know how many nights he lay like that, determined to ignore the ghosts, praying they would just disappear or that he would disappear.

He didn’t know how the unicorn had ended up in Ben’s room, he could only assume Six had retrieved it after Four had left. Either way, with the unicorn held in his hands, he closed his eyes and began to think about the day’s events.


	6. bubbling guilt and revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished watching season two and there are so many things we need to talk about XD

Allison closed the door behind her with a soft click and then slowly leant her back against it. She closed her eyes tightly and let her head softly touch the wooden door where the number ‘00.06’ was forever imprinted on it, though no one used the room anymore. Well, except For Number Four apparently.

She’d promised herself after the divorce between herself and Patrick that she wouldn’t use her power anymore. After rumouring Claire, her daughter, and finally coming to her senses about how manipulative and wrong it was to make someone do something they didn’t want to do, she’d put her foot down and made a promise she intended to keep.

Yet, clearly not even promises made to herself mattered anymore because, in the moment, she’d lost herself and rumoured Number Four into talking when it was obvious that he didn’t want to. Or, couldn’t. She didn’t know anymore.

Shaking her head, beyond frustrated with herself, she began to walk down the corridor, heading anywhere other than Six’s room. She needed time to herself.

”Ah, Miss Allison. Just the person I was looking for.”

The sound of Pogo’s voice made her pause and turn around. Not far behind her, only a few feet, clearly having just rounded the corner, was Pogo, leaning the majority of his weight on his cane.

Still wanting to be alone, Allison began to tell him this.

”Sorry, Pogo, but I’d like to be alone right now,” she said apologetically.

”I understand, but this won’t take more than a few minutes, I can assure you,” Pogo informed her.

With a sigh, Allison relented. It would probably distract her mind, anyway. Nodding, she allowed Pogo to lead the way. The only sound as they walked was the clacking of her designer heels and padding of his bare feet on their hardwood floors.

The pair walked for what felt like an age until they finally made it to the other side of the house and Pogo opened the door to a dark, small room that seemed to only house old televisions, none of which were on.

Allison frowned as she followed Pogo into the room, searching idly for a light switch, though she didn’t have any luck.

It didn’t matter in the end, anyway, because Pogo turned the televisions on and the light of the grey static displayed onscreen lit up the room.

”Why are we here?” Allison asked, her curiosity wearing thin and wanting to cut to the chase.

“Miss Vanya called. She mentioned you might be a bit upset and wanted to make sure you were okay,” Pogo started.

Guilt welled up inside of Allison for a second time as she remembered what she’d said to Vanya, who had only meant well.

”Yeah, I said some.. pretty hurtful things to her earlier,” she admitted.

”She’s your sister. She knows you didn’t mean it,” Pogo tried to console.

”I doubt it,” Allison sighed.

”Well, either way, when I heard that you were upset, I thought perhaps this might be able to cheer you up,” Pogo gestured towards the several televisions in front of them.

”And what is this?” Allison asked again.

Pogo hobbled forward a bit to one of the screens and pressed the button on the VHS player that was underneath it, which prompted all of the screens to spring to life and play.

Allison frowned and moved closer to the screens.

”Is that...?”

”Your father stopped recording years ago, but I still come here from time to time,” Pogo confirmed.

On all of the screens was what could only be described as old footage of all of the children when they were younger, playing together. All except Vanya, of course, she was left out their entire childhood. Left alone to play her violin in her room. 

Allison shook her head.

”Pogo, this is... most families have home movies to look back on,” she said disapprovingly, “we have surveillance footage.”

”I’d hoped it might cheer you up,” Pogo said.

Allison sighed as she watched herself and the rest of her siblings throw a priceless vase back and forth on the stairs. Their father had given them the lecture of a lifetime about that. She’d never known how he’d known about it, but now she did.

”It does,” she admitted with the smallest of fond smiles, “look how little we were. And Ben and I.”

Fondly, she touched the screen where she and Ben were running around in one of the bedrooms.

Her eyes drifted over to another screen where she saw Vanya, practising the violin.

”Why did we never include her?” She asked aloud, more to herself than Pogo. “If anybody ever treated Claire like that... I can’t even imagine.”

”You were children,” Pogo pointed out.

”Well, I’m not anymore,” Allison replied, “and neither is she.”

Pogo rose from his chair then, using his cane to assist himself.

”If you’re not in a hurry, the rest of the tapes are in that cabinet,” he nodded at said cabinet, behind Allison, “make sure you lock up.”

With the keys in hand courtesy of Pogo, Allison began to search through the cabinet for some more footage to watch. It felt a little wrong, watching footage of herself and her siblings when they hadn’t even known they’d been recorded, but there was something alluring about how carefree she and the others had been, even under such stressful circumstances.

And secretly, she thought she was hoping to see some footage of herself and all of her siblings playing. Including Vanya and Four.

She took hold of one of the tapes, one that was coated with a thick layer of dust. It seemed that it was the only one that hadn’t been rewatched by Pogo.

With a deep breath, she blew the majority of the dust off of it and then wiped the rest off carefully with her index finger. 

The date revealed on the tape was old. Doing the math, she guessed she must have been around six years old. Hope filled her as she remembered that was the age Four had been sent away.

Without a second thought, she removed the tape already in the player and replaced it with the one she’d taken from the cabinet then pressed play.

It took a few seconds to begin, stuck in a loop of static and crackling noises, but eventually, it flickered on and the grainy footage from the tape began to play on screen.

On one television, she could see Diego and Five in the library, playing a game of catch which Diego was somehow cheating at. It wasn’t unusual, Diego used to cheat at any game he could by using his power. She could hear from the screen that Five was getting annoyed with him and threatening to not play anymore.

On one of the other televisions, Ben was sat on the floor of his bedroom, reading a book. She couldn't see properly but it looked like it had pictures of animals.

Her heart clenched so she forced herself to look at another screen.

That was when she saw Four. Her eyes widened and a smile almost broke out across her face until she realised that he was with their father, and it looked like an argument was taking place. Four was stomping his feet, apparently unperturbed by how red in the face Reginald looked to be.

Strangely, she couldn’t hear anything from the footage. Brows furrowed, she began pressing buttons on the television, trying to turn the volume up, but nothing was working. There didn’t seem to be any volume to the footage.

With a sigh, Allison’s shoulders slumped and she leant her hands on the table.

Then, without warning, the Reginald onscreen quickly brought his hand up and then back down, striking little Number Four so hard the boy fell to the floor from the force of it.

Suddenly, before Allison could even react to what she’d just seen, horror eating at her heart, the screen turned black, footage disappearing from sight.

”No! What the hell?” Allison cursed to herself, quickly pressing the power button to the television. “Turn on, You stupid thing.”

All of the other screens paused, seemingly coming to the end of their roll.

”Shit,” Allison muttered, ejecting the tape and hurrying back to the cabinet.

She quickly put the tape back and began rummaging to find another one, hoping against hope that she could find one from the same day, or at least from the day Four had left.

”Got you,” Allison breathed, pulling out a tape from the same day as the one she’d just watched. It wasn’t as dusty as the one she’d just watched, an obvious sign that Pogo had actively avoided the other one but not the one in her hands.

Moving back to the tape player, she put the VHS in and pressed play. Unlike the previous tape, this one turned on straight away with no sign of delay.

To her confusion, this footage only looked to be about an hour after what had been shown on the previous tape. She didn’t see the point in putting half a days footage on one tape and the other half on another tape. Why not just keep it all on the same tape?

Still, she leant forward and paid attention, watching as Four and Reginald walked quickly through the corridors. Well, it was more like Four was being dragged through the corridor by Reginald.

Eventually, they came to a room not that far away from Reginald’s office where the two had previously been arguing.

* * *

_”Daddy, I’m sorry. Please, where are we going?” Four pleaded. He sniffled, his nose running from his crying.  
_

_ His cheek stung worse than any pain he’d ever experienced before. Even brawling with Two in the garden hadn’t hurt this bad. At least Two knew to go easy on him._

_”Enough of your senseless babbling, Number Four. And quit your crying, child. You’re a boy and boys don’t cry,” Reginald snapped. _

_Nodding silently, Four tried his hardest not to keep crying, though he occasionally had to wipe his sore cheeks to get rid of his silent tears._

_After a whole of being dragged through corridors, Reginald and Four arrived at a room that looked like another office though it was less lavish than Reginald’s office which was full of all sorts of expensive treasures.   
_

_Stood by the desk pushed up against the wall in the office, Four noticed Number Three._

_”Three!” Four cried desperately and began trying to release his arm from Reginald’s grip._

_Three immediately took a step towards her brother, his distress obvious, but was quickly halted by Reginald._

_”Stay there, Number Three,” Reginald ordered._

_Reluctantly, Three stayed put though she watched Four with pitying eyes._

_“Number Three, I need you to rumour Number Four,” Reginald informed Three as he deposited Four in front of her, keeping a tight hold on Four’s shoulder._

_”What? No, please, Three! Don’t listen to him!” Four began to cry again. “He’s lying to us!”_

_”Lying?” Three repeated cautiously._

_”He made you rumour us all! Number S-“_

_Reginald clamped a hand over Four’s mouth, cutting off whatever had been about to spill from the boy._

_”Enough of this nonsense. I need you to rumour him to be quiet, Number Three, and quickly,” Reginald told Three._

_”But...” Three hesitated, the sound of Four’s muffled crying behind Reginald’s palm loud in her ears._

_”Quickly, girl!” Reginald snapped._

_Four began to kick his legs out, grabbing hold of Reginald’s arms in an attempt to wriggle free._

_”I... _I heard a rumour that you couldn’t talk._”_

_The rumour took its place deep in Four’s mind quickly, stealing his ability to talk altogether.  
_

_As soon as it was obvious Number Four could no longer talk, Reginald let go of him and he fell limp to the floor, curling up in a fetal position, and burying his head in his arms._

_His shoulders wracked with his silent crying, and his breath fogged up the hardwood floors beneath his face.  
_

_”Let this be a lesson to you, Number Three,” Reginald drew Three’s attention away from Four, “you are not to go sticking your nose where it does not belong.”_

_Three shakily nodded and watched as Reginald left the room. As soon as he was gone, Three knelt down in front of Four and placed a hand on his back._

* * *

“What the hell?” Allison breathed, stricken with horror.

The footage continued playing in front of her, even as her younger self rose from the floor and slowly left the room, leaving Number Four to silently cry to himself.

”That is... I didn’t... oh, my God. How could I have forgotten?” She questioned herself.

Like a gust of wind had pushed her over, she fell backwards into the seat behind her and put her head in her hands.

”It was me... I stole his voice. Shit.”


	7. moral dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter isn’t very long, but I felt like that was a good place to end it :)
> 
> Let me know what you think :)) x

Ben’s eyes widened in surprise. If he had a heart, he was sure it would have stopped there at the revelation that had played on the television. He only stayed long enough to see Allison fall back into a chair before he hurriedly left the Room to go and find Four.

His needed to speak to Four. Ask him why he never mentioned that Allison had been the one to take his voice. Well, not mentioned perse. Ben would have been relieved if he’d mentioned anything at all, but seeing as he hadn’t been able to speak, him mentioning anything would have been a miracle.

On his journey back to Four, he passed by an open window leading out to a fire escape on the alleyway outside. He paused briefly in confusion at the sight of Number Five with a backpack half the size of him on his back as he climbed out of the window and began shuffling down the fire escape.

Ben leaned against the windowsill and peered down at the alleyway, confusion warping his mind at Five’s motives (no doubt illegal). Parked at the mouth of the alleyway, Ben locked his eyes onto a van. His brows furrowed then rose at seeing Five making his way to the van.

”What the hell is he doing?” He asked himself quietly, as if afraid he’d be heard though he knew that was impossible.

Shaking his head with a confused frown, he pushed back from the window and continued towards Four’s room.

When he arrived, he didn’t bother announcing himself properly. He merely walked straight through the closed door and spoke what was on his mind.

”Why didn’t you tell me Allison was the one who made you mute? Huh?” Ben only hesitated for a moment at the sight of Four holding his old unicorn toy tightly.

Four looked up at him slowly, pursed his lips as if in thought, then shrugged and rested his head on his knees.

Ben pursed his own lips then, without a second’s consideration, placed his hand on Four’s shoulder and squeezed it. Just as quickly as he had made contact with Four, his hand phased through his shoulder and Ben was forced to pull back.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ben demanded.

”I hate when you - that,” Four whispered painfully, “and how would I have told you? ‘Was _mute_.”

”We got by just fine for seventeen years without you saying a word,” Ben sighed and plopped himself down beside Four.

”How... how do you...” Four trailed off, wincing at the strain he was putting on his throat.

”Pogo was showing Allison some tapes to cheer her up, and she found one from the day she rumoured you,” Ben explained, “I don’t think she even remembered that she’d done it. I guess that’s why she lost her temper earlier. She thought you just chose not to speak.”

Four shrugged and sighed.

Looking at him, Ben wondered whether he should ask the next question on his mind. The one that was nagging at him more than his first one.

His tugged at his earlobe, considering.

Eventually, he stood up and moved to lean against his bookshelf.

”Why did,” he began, then shook his head and tried to rephrase his words, “do you remember why she rumoured you?”

Four looked up at him then back down at the unicorn in his lap.

”It’s just that dad was there too, when she did it. He told her to rumour you. Why? What did you do?” Ben frowned.

”I didn’t do _anything_,” Four croaked defensively.

”Okay, fine, you didn’t do anything,” Ben relented, “but why would he do that? Why did he ask her to rumour you?”

”Go away,” Four whispered, squeezing the toy.

”Four, come on,” Ben rolled his eyes, “I just want to know. Seventeen years you’ve been avoiding this. I’m worried about you. Just tell me why-“

”Go away!”

Four was on his feet quicker than Ben had realised, and pushing him hard against the chest. His hands were glowing blue, his veins pulsing the same colour. 

Looking down, Ben realised he was glowing too. Ben had never been afraid of Four before, but now, he was sure his investing heart had begun to pound.

”Get out, get out, get out!” Four yelled, his voice croaky with the force behind his yells. His voice wasn’t used to so much use, especially not shouting, and they both knew that, but that didn’t stop Four from doing so. “I don’t want you here anymore! Leave me alone.”

Four sank to the ground and curled in on himself, shoulders wracking with what Ben knew were silent cries. He didn’t miss the way Four wrapped one still-glowing hand around his throat, as if he could nurse the pain away just by holding it.

Ben almost left. And he would have done, if only to calm Four down, but the sight of the glowing ghouls closing in from all corners of the room changed his mind just as quick as he’d put his foot through the closed door.

He quickly crouched down in front of Four and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

”Four, listen to me,” he said quickly, his voice shaking a little near the end, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just worried. We all are. But, well, that’s not the point,” he glanced at the ghosts, still approaching, ”the point is, you don’t have to tell me what happened, okay? You can keep it a secret. Take it to the grave, if you want. Just, please, calm down. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Beneath his hands, Four’s shoulders still shook, but to Ben’s immense relief, the glowing in his hands began to pulse until eventually it flickered and disappeared altogether.

Along with his glowing hands, the ghosts became incorporeal again and Ben’s hands once again fell through Four’s shoulders.

With a huge sigh, Ben fell backwards to where he was lay on his back beside Four.

He glanced over to check on Four a few moments later and met eyes with him. He was no longer crying, his eyes now only a little red and puffy. Ben flashed a quick smile at him.

”Did I tell you that Five can drive?” He said in an attempt to cheer him up.

”He’s like ten,” Four grinned.

”Thirteen,” Ben corrected with a snort, “don’t let him hear you calling him ten.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for only a few more minutes before they were interrupted. This time, however, by Grace who they could hear calling Four’s name from down the corridor.

It seemed she was looking for him after not being able to find him in his own room.

”Better see what she wants,” Ben told Four, ”meds, probably.”

Four sighed softly before dragging himself slowly to his feet and exiting the room.

* * *

Sitting in the kitchen with Grace, Four sighed. He watched her move back and forth, walking the length of the kitchen several times, as she prepared him a meal. He’d already had his medication and now she insisted on making him some food.

He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he supposed nothing could stop her from looking after him. It was her job, after all.

Finally, after about half an hour, Grace scraped a bacon strip from a pan onto a plate along with a couple of eggs. Four watched as she moved the food about for a moment before humming, seemingly satisfied and brought it over to him.

When it was placed in front of him, Four stared at it. She’d rearranged the food to look like a smiley face. Looking back at Grace, he realised he wasn’t really surprised.

”Thanks,” he whispered.

His throat was still burning after the abuse it had suffered with him shouting at Six. He felt guilty about it. He was worried about Four, and Four could almost understand, but he couldn’t risk any of his siblings’ well-beings, even if he was still mad at Allison.

Just as he picked up the fork in front of him to begin to eat his food, something grabbed the back of his shirt and the next thing he knew, he was falling to the floor in a different room.

Quickly, he scrambled up and whirled around only to find Number Five pacing what was apparently his bedroom.

Four pointedly frowned at Five, and when the latter finally stopped pacing and looked at him, he offered an explanation.

”I need your help,” Five stated, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

With confusion, Four pointed at himself.

”Yes, you,” Five nodded, “I’m trying to get information on something, but I can’t get it because I’m stuck in this stupid body. I need you to pretend to be my father.”

Four’s eyebrows rose, almost touching his hairline with his surprise. He couldn’t help the little snort that left him.

”Look, you don’t have to say anything, you just have to pretend to be my father,” Five told him, “and don’t worry, Vanya is coming too.”

”_Vanya_?” Four croaked, eyes wide.

That earned him a strange look from Five who nodded in confirmation.

”Yeah, Vanya,” he said, “now put on something smart. I’m sure the old man will have a suit lying around somewhere that you can borrow. Hurry.”

Four didn’t get the chance to protest because in the blink of an eye, Five had disappeared elsewhere.

He turned to his right where Ben had been quietly watching the exchange. He looked just as confused as Four felt.

“He wants...” Four trailer off.

”Yeah...” Ben slowly confirmed.

Over ten minutes later and Four and Six found themselves hovering outside of Reginald’s bedroom. Four hadn’t had the faintest idea where to go, but Ben had given him directions on how to find it.

Just looking at the door itself was intimidating. It made Four want to pack up his very few belongings (namely the clothes on his back) and run back to the sanctuary of the asylum.

At least then, he knew what to expect of each day. Back at the Academy, each day was different and it made Four dizzy.

”Are you going to go in?”

Four looked at Six and then back at the door.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded and opened the door.

Immediately, Four became aware of the enveloping silence that lingered in the bedroom. Going back to his hazy memory of his father’s office, he could say that both his bedroom and his office were decorated similarly.

Knowing he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, Four headed straight over to the wardrobe opposite the door.

He swung the doors open, revealing to himself an entire wardrobe full of smart business suits ranging from black to grey to blue.

Four wasn’t sure which to choose, which looked more professional, but he was saved from making the decision when Six pointed at a suit that wasn’t black, but more of a very dark grey.

”Thanks,” he said as he pulled the suit out and closed the wardrobe.

”Let’s get this show on the road,” Six sighed.

* * *

Four was still pulling on his father’s too-big trousers when Five warped into the room, looking a little hectic. Then again, since his return from wherever the hell he’d been, Five had always had a slightly manic look in his eyes, as if he was prepared for whatever may come, be it an apocalypse or trained assassins out for his head.

”Let’s go,” Five said, without even a word of greeting.

Quickly buttoning up his trousers, Four hastily nodded his head and tried to prepare himself for the horrible feeling of Five dragging him from his bedroom to a cold, damp alleyway outside the Academy.

”Feel... sick,” he croaked miserably as he leant forward and rested his palms on his knees.

He could practically feel his breakfast beginning to climb up his throat.

”There’s no time, get in the van,” Five ordered.

In the next second, he had warped away and Four saw a blue light flash from inside of the van.

“Don’t want to,” Four whined to himself.

”I think it’s best to do what he says,” Ben advised wisely.

With a sigh and an eye roll, Four began dragging his feet to the van.

Not wanting to sit up front with Five, he opened the back doors and climbed into the messy space at the back of the van. He had to budge a mannequin over a little so he could get in, but eventually he managed to clear a space just enough to squeeze inside.

After slamming the doors shut again, he settled in somewhat by leaning back against the wall.

”You’ve been dragged into this too, huh?” A soft voice asked.

Four looked up and towards the seats upfront, catching big brown eyes looking back at him.

Vanya. Shit.


	8. musketeers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know updates have been a little slow lately, and I’m sorry for that, but I’ve been really struggling w my mental health. i stopped taking my medication a few months ago when i decided i couldnt be bothered living the rest of my life on it just to get better, and my mom wanted to have me sectioned, so ever since, ive just had no effort or willpower to do anything at all
> 
> If updates get even slower, don’t hesitate to remind me to update otherwise I’ll probably forget 
> 
> Anyways, enough of that kill-joy mumbojumbo 
> 
> Enjoy x

Four tried to bring his legs even closer to himself as the van rocked with the speed Five was driving, but it seemed impossible to curl up even further.

He couldn’t stop staring at the back of Seven’s head as she made conversation with Five. He no longer wanted to help Five with whatever he had planned, getting Four to pretend to be his father. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see a way out just yet.

As Five drove his very clearly stolen van, Four clung to the nearest piece of junk which so happened to be a mannequin with a black and white polka dot blouse. He eyed the mannequin then shared a look with Six. The latter rose an eyebrow and Four glared at him. 

“Shut up,” he mouthed.

Six rose his hands in surrender.

Suddenly, the van swerved and Four found himself thrown forward. He landed awkwardly, the mannequin digging into his side painfully. He had, had to use his hands to stop his impact on the van floor, leaving his face an inch away from smacking into it.

”Jesus, I thought he could drive,” he whispered to himself as he pushed himself back. As he leant back against the van wall, he rubbed his throat. It was still extremely painful to talk, even to whisper.

”I thought you said you could drive,” Seven said to Five up front. Four looked in her direction.

”I _can_ drive,” Five grit out, “but there some idiots who just don’t know when to get out of the way.”

”They were doing the speed limit,” Seven timidly pointed out.

“It doesn’t matter, we’re here,” Five retorted.

True to his word, they had arrived outside a large building from what Four could see. It was made mostly of glass, but you couldn’t see inside of it. 

Five hopped out of the van, slamming the door shut behind him. Seven followed his lead, but showed the door a little more consideration. 

“You should probably go too,” Six suggested.

Four nodded, but made no move to leave the van.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to help Five with whatever he was doing. He didn’t want to pretend to be his father either, and wearing Reginald’s oversized pinstripe suit made his skin crawl like a thousand spiders had taken root inside his flesh.

He almost started scratching at that thought. 

“Get out, we don’t have time for this.”

Four looked up, startled, and came face to face with Five, Seven hovering awkwardly over his shoulder. 

With no other choice but to obey, Four clambered messily out of the van. He was sure it looked to his siblings that he was drunk, especially when he accidentally knocked a stray lightbulb onto the road with his leg, but he managed to straighten up quickly.

Five shook his head and sighed, shutting the van doors.

”Let’s get this over with and maybe we can actually save the world,” he grumbled.

He was clearly unhappy with what he was working with, but seemed to have no other choice otherwise Four was sure he’d have dismissed both himself and Seven in a heartbeat. 

Four trailed hesitantly behind Five and Seven, taking up the rear end and dragging his feet. The soles of his father’s shoes were in pristine condition, as if they’d never been worn a day in their life, but by the end of this expedition Five had them on, Four knew they’d probably have holes in them.

The inside of the building was just as modern and pristine as the inside of it. With a shiver, Four realised it looked similar to the Institute with its whites and greys splattered at every inch of the building. Though he knew the Institute was definitely more worn and rundown than this building.

Whoever ran this place was very rich, Four guessed.

Four watched as Five strode up to a man that he seemed to know. The man also looked like he knew Five, too, as he sighed heavily when Five approached. Four could see the annoyance in the way his shoulders had bunched. The doctors used to hold the same posture when Four wasn’t behaving.

There was a woman at the desk, typing a way on a computer. At the front of the desk was a sign with the company name on it in big, white letters. Something like ‘Meritetch’? Four couldn’t tell. The letters were too close together.

The man Five had approached had brown hair styled neatly with gel or hairspray, and his white lab coat fit him nicely. Even his shoes were polished. There was a name tag around his neck, but Four couldn’t see what it said.

”Look, I’ve brought my parents,” Five told the man. Four and Seven shared a look which Four was quick to break when she gave him a small smile. “Perhaps we can discuss this eyeball now.”

The man pursed his lips and sighed once again, shaking his head a little.

”Fine,” he said, “follow me to my office.”

And so they did. Five stayed on the man’s heels, a slight bounce in his steps. Four could imagine he was very excited for some reason, his posture was less tense and he seemed relieved. 

Four, on the other hand, was still nervous. He was less so than when he’d been in the van with the prospect of pretending to be Five’s dad with Seven, but the sickly feeling in his stomach had stubbornly persisted.

He swallowed, his throat scratching horribly, as he and his siblings followed the man into his office. The walls were glass, unfortunately giving them little privacy, and the room consisted of very little furniture. Just a metal desk with a few items on top, including a prosthetic hand, and a couple of chairs in front of the desk.

Four took a seat at one of them following an inviting gesture from the man, along with Seven who sat on his left. Five leant his hands on the desk the second the man took his own seat on the opposite side of the desk. 

There was silence for a few seconds as Five glared at the man until Seven finally spoke up.

”Um, so, uh, our son here tells us you won’t give him a name for this eye?” Seven looked confused and a little nervous, but she slipped into the role of mother quickly.

”Like I said to your son earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential,” the man explained, “without the client’s consent, I can’t help you.”

”Well, we can’t get consent unless you give us a name,” Five retorted.

The man shrugged, “well, that’s not my problem. Sorry, now there’s nothing more I can do and I’m quite busy, so...”

Four’s eyebrows pinched. Could he really pass them off like that? They needed this information for... well, he wasn’t sure why they needed it, but it was important to Five, so they had to do something.

”But we need that information,” Seven voiced Four’s thoughts. “To- to return the eye.”

”As I just said, ma’am, without the client’s consent-“

Four coughed loudly and the man stopped himself. He needed to do something.

”What about my... consent?” Four croaked. Seven’s head turned sharply to look at him, eyebrows risen in surprised.

”I’m sorry?” The man asked, confused.

”Who gave you per-permission... to lay your hands on... my son?” Four slowly rose from his seat.

”I didn’t touch your son,” the man said.

“Then how did he get that swollen lip?” Four’s throat stung like an inferno, but he knew he had to keep going. He couldn’t stop now.

”He doesn’t have-“

Four swung at Five, fist striking his face painfully. For the briefest of moments, it wasn’t Five he was hitting. Three’s face flashed before his eyes and anger spiked inside of him. But then it was Five again and he was nursing his bloody lip.

”Oh, my G- you hit him,” Seven was out of her seat, hands resting on Five’s shoulders.

”Jesus, Four, what the hell?” Six appeared behind the man as Four leant on the table.

Four’s eyes only flickered to him for a second before resting on the man again. He could see the name tag better from his distance. Grant or something, his name was.

”Name,” he ordered. His throat was too sore to say anything else. It felt like it was going to tear in two if he spoke again.

”You’re crazy,” the man pointed at him.

Four allowed a smirk.

His hand touched something on the desk and he looked down to see a snow globe. There was a little Earth inside of it.

He picked it up and read the words on the bottom.

”Peace on Earth,” he whispered, “cute.”

”Don’t do it,” Six warned.

Before Six could say any more, he brought the globe towards his head with as much force as he could muster.

The snow globe smashed upon impact, shards of glass imbedding in his skin and blood running down his face, mingling with the water and confetti from the snow globe. 

Four cried out in pain, instantly regretting his actions. Not only was his throat crying out for relief, but now his head was throbbing.

”You’re an idiot, you know that?” Six disappeared, shaking his head. Good riddance, Four though. He was a pain in the backside.

”I’m calling security,” Grant announced, grabbing his telephone and bringing it to his ear as he dialled the number.

Four stole the phone from his hand and shoved it into Five’s hands, giving him a pointed look. He couldn’t say anymore, but he hoped Five understood.

Five handed the receiver to Seven who looked alarmed, but brought it to her ear anyway.

”Uh, w-we need security, please,” Seven stuttered, “there’s been an assault! One of your employees has just attacked my- my husband!”

As she finished, she slammed the phone back onto its stand and let out a relieved sigh.

”You’re all insane,” Grant decided.

”Name, Grant,” Four growled out, grabbing Grant by the scruff of his neck.

”My name is Lance,” Grant corrected him.

”I don’t think you want to be here when security arrive, Grant,” Five smirked, “let’s just get this over with, huh?”

”Okay, fine,” Grant nodded hastily.

Five nodded at Four, and the latter reluctantly let Grant go. The man fell back into his chair heavily and straightened his uniform.

”Let’s go,” Five said impatiently.

Grant stood from his seat and rushed to the exit of his office. The others followed his lead.

* * *

Grant shuffled through a filing cabinet, hands noticeably shaking. He rifled through until eventually his hand landed on the one he seemed to need. He pulled it out as Four waited on the other side of the desk with Five and Seven. 

They all watched as Grant opened the file and began flipping through the paperwork inside.

“Oh, that’s strange,” he said.

”What?” Five snapped.

”The eye,” Grant replied, “it hasn’t been purchased by a client.”

”What do you mean?” Seven asked.

”Well, our logs say that the eye with that serial number... this can’t be right,” Grant said, “it hasn’t even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?”

Four watched as Five’s face went through a flurry of different emotions. Angry, dejected, disbelief, and back to angry again.

He shook his head and stalked off back out of the building doors. Four only glanced at Grant once before scurrying off on Five’s tail. He could hear Seven following them both after passing a quick apology to Grant.

Outside, the natural sun was a relief to him, even if it was a bit bright. It was a stark contrast to the harsh white lights inside of the building.

”This is not good,” Five said as he paced outside. 

Four looked around. There were a lot of people about, some of them staring at him. Slowly he brought a hand to his face. It came away wet with blood. He’d almost forgotten about that. He awkwardly wiped at his head with the sleeve of his suit.

”Why are you so concerned with this eye, anyway?” Four asked, followed by a dry cough that stung.

”There is someone out there who’s going to lose an eye in the next seven days,” Five explained, “they’re going to bring about the end of life on Earth as we know it.”

Four hummed in surprise, eyebrows rising. Six reappeared in his peripheral and they both shared a look.

”I need to go,” Five shook his head, “I need to find out who owns this eye.”

”Well, we can he-“ Seven began, but Five was already gone.

He’d disappeared with a flash that made Four startled slightly.

”He’s gone,” Seven pointed out the obvious.

Four’s heart raced as he stared at Seven. He hadn’t been alone with his sister since... well, since they were kids. Since before their father got rid of her powers. Did she have them back? No, surely she didn’t. Three’s rumours were strong. They could only be undone by Three herself.

Four turned and approached the pavement. He wanted to go back to the Academy.

But how? He didn’t know where he was or the way back to the Academy nor did he have any money for a taxi.

”Four? What’s wrong?” Seven put a hand on his shoulder but he quickly shoved it off.

”I want to go back to the Academy,” he told her.

”Oh, well let’s get a cab,” Seven suggested, “I’ll come with you.”

While he didn’t like the idea of being with Seven any longer than he had already been, he didn’t see any better options so he nodded his head.

Smiling, Seven held out a hand at the sight of a passing taxi.


	9. Torn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t watched S1 of TUA in... probably a year i think? So if the events of this are all muddled up, that’s on me. So forgive me lol?
> 
> Enjoy x

_Thunder boomed and crackled far overhead, deafening to those paying attention. Bright flashes of light preceded the thunder, illuminating the entire world in ghastly whites and dark shadows._

_In what seemed like the middle of nowhere, the Institution stood strongly with its hidden secrets and dim lights that flickered as much as the lightening._

_On the top floor, bound by metal grates over the dirty windows and locked by stubborn padlocks for extra security, Number Four, former member of the Umbrella Academy, rattled ceaselessly at the protected windows._

_He pulled and pounded, restless. He even kicked._

_Until eventually, the doctors and nurses came running to stop him. The pulled on him just as he did to the metal grates on the windows, and ignored his silent screams._

_Number Four was dragged from the room despite his kicking and his frenzied doe eyes. The doctors and nurses gave no indication that they had even noticed his tears._

_The teenager was dragged down to the floor below where his room resided and tossed inside one of the rooms carelessly. The doctors and nurses, mere silhouettes in the dim room, shackled him to a grate in the floor and left without a second thought._

_Left to his own devices, Number Four cowered away from hands that weren’t there and covered his sensitive ears against the screaming that he was jealous of._

* * *

To say catching a cab with his sister was awkward would be an understatement. Four’s vocal chords were already abused from talking so much after years of forced silence, and yet Seven is expected him to make conversation with her after the spectacle with Five and Lance (Grant? Who cares).

Though Four couldn’t be sure, Seven did look pleased to be with him. She looked... content.

Sparing her a wary glance, Four settled back more into his seat and allowed his tense muscles to relax a little. He saw Six smile in the passenger seat up front, watching him from the rear view mirror.

Four looked away out the window and watched the traffic whiz by like bees.

It was a good ten minutes before Seven finally addressed him, in that calm, quiet way she owned.

”Do you want me to come back to the Academy with you? I’m sure you want company after... that,” she said. Four saw in the reflection of the window as her eyes flickered to the glitter on his suit.

Four turned his head a little just enough to see her from his peripheral. He shrugged nonchalantly. He didn’t particularly want her following him around, not when he could ruin her life just by opening his mouth, but it was also her home too.

More so than his, anyway. He’d barely been back for five minutes.

Seven seemed to take his answer as acceptance because she nodded and settled back into her seat.

It was only ten minutes later that they arrived back at the Academy and Four was finally able to exit the taxi. He hurried away from the outside world and back into what he knew was going to be sanctuary now that he’d been torn from the Institution.

He heard Vanya paying the taxi driver as he entered the Academy, but didn’t look back until he was in the kitchen and found Mom and Pogo conversing in there.

Their eyes fell on him and he sat down timidly as Mom gasped at the sight of him. She hurried over to him and placed her hands on either side of his face, moving his hair about to get a better look at the wounds on his head.

”Oh, my dear Four,” she cooed, “whatever happened to you?”

With his voice worn out now for what would probably be the next ten years, Four shrugged and let her fuss over him.

”Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” She suggested.

Four hadn’t been focusing on the pain in the taxi; he’d been more concerned with how at ease he felt in Seven’s presence and how strange it was. Among the rest of his siblings, he felt like a stranger. Like he wanted to tear his own hair out or headbutt another snowglobe. 

But, for some unfathomable reason, Seven put him at ease. He didn’t know if she had her powers back or if she even knew she had them, but she was just... She was just Seven. His sister, caught up in a family of superpowered adults who had no idea how to communicate.

And Four felt okay around her. It frustrated him. She, Allison, and their father were the reasons he spent the better half of his life mute, unable to present his needs or his thoughts to others. Locked away in a place he both loved and loathed.

His dilemma must have shown on his face as Mom tsked and pressed a gentle kiss to his glittery forehead, and asked what was bothering him.

He shook his head and smiled at her, portraying that he was fine.

”Let me just get the first aid kit,” she told him then.

”Grace, let me take care of it,” Pogo stopped her, “you need to charge.”

”Oh, I’m sure I can just-“ Mom began only for Pogo to copy Four in shaking his head and smiling.

”I insist,” he said to Mom.

Four watched the interaction warily. He’d only seen Pogo once since his return to the Academy. He’d thought he was something his overactive imagination had conjured up as a child to bring himself some form of comfort about being torn away from his family.

He hadn’t known how to feel about Pogo when he was brought home, and still didn’t now. How close had he been to Reginald? Had he been in on it when Four was rendered mute? 

Mom finally relented to Pogo’s suggestion that she go and charge, and gave Four one final kiss on the head before she left the kitchen.

”Right, then,” Pogo breathed and hobbled over to the first aid kit hung on the wall.

He opened it up and pulled out some antiseptic wipes as well as gauze. When he had what he needed, he returned to Four’s side and placed them on the table.

Four glanced at the items and watched Pogo warily as he took a seat beside him.

”You can trust him,” Six said.

Four resisted the urge to flinch at the ghost’s sudden appearance. He hated it when Six appeared unexpectedly out of nowhere. It reminded him of the less savoury ghouls.

Still, he relaxed slightly and waited patiently as Pogo began to cleanse his wounds.

”You have a particularly large wound here,” he began dabbing at an area that stung more than the rest.

Four made a face and eyed him.

Silence fell again, only broken occasionally by Pogo tutting at the mess made of his head by the globe. 

Eventually, as Pogo was taping the gauze to his head to prevent infection, he spoke again.

”I can see the mistrust in your eyes, Number Four,” he said solemnly, “and I can only apologise that it is there.”

From around the table, Six straightened up and moved around to stand beside Pogo.

”I never agreed with what Sir Hargreeves did to you. Or to Miss Vanya.”

Four perked up and looked at Pogo.

”Ah, I see that I was right. You remember why Sir Hargreeves had Miss Allison rumour you,” Pogo nodded.

”What does he mean?” Six asked with a frown. “Four?”

Four ignored him and kept his eyes on Pogo as he nodded in response.

”I imagined many scenarios over the years that didn’t involve Sir Hargreeves sending you away or rumouring Miss Vanya to forget,” Pogo sighed, “but no matter what, it never fixed anything. Perhaps if I had spoken up back then, things might have been different.”

With a shrug, Four looked away. His throat was burning again.

”I’m sorry, Number Four. I hope you can forgive me for my inaction. And if not, then I understand.”

Keeping his eyes on the opposing window, Four listened as Pogo rose to his feet and hobbled away.

The weight of his request weighed heavily on Four’s mind. He hadn’t even considered that Pogo might have known what his father did to him and Seven. It had been so long ago that he had probably forgotten it along with many more important details of his life.

But now that he knew, Four didn’t know whether he wanted to forgive him.

Because why _hadn’t _he spoken up and stopped Hargreeves from sending him away without the ability to even beg him not to? Why _hadn’t _he spoken up to stop him from making Seven think she was ordinary?

They were just kids! Kids whose lives had been torn from their grasp before they’d even had the ability _to _grasp!

What _threat_ had _they_, just children, posed to the great Reginald Hargreeves?

“Four, what did Hargreeves make Vanya forget?” Six’s voice tore him from his anger and Four looked away from the window to see him hovering beside him.

With a shake of his head, Four rose from his seat and stalked away.

He wanted to go to his room and sleep for a thousand years.

And that was what he did. He made his way back to his room and shut the door solidly behind him. He sighed into the open space and collapsed onto his bed.

He reached blindly for a pair of headphones he didn’t remember ever owning as a kid and put them on. He pressed play on the mp3 and scrunched his nose when some kind of jazz began to play.

He hadn’t listened to any music since his Academy days, but he didn’t think jazz was his kind of thing.

It was better than the distance groaning of the ghosts that he constantly put up with, though.

* * *

Four found himself rudely awoken an undetermined time later when something slammed his door open. The music was no longer playing but he still had the headphones on.

He tore them off wildly and watched with wide eyes as Seven, of all people, burst through his door like a maniac, into his room, and then shut it quietly behind herself.

He watched with confusion for a moment as she leant against the door and breathed heavily.

Then she pushed away from the door and approached him. Four shuffled back a little on instinct and tensed when she took his hand in her own.

”We have to get out of here, Four,” she told him in what Four could only describe as a nervous manner, “there’s- there’s these people in masks. They’ve got guns.”

Four made a face. He remembered learning about guns as a child at the Academy and knew that they were dangerous. They could kill in an instant in the wrong hands.

A loud noise pierced the air and Four jumped a mile high, throwing himself off the bed and onto the floor. He tried to hide under the bed but Seven prevented him.

”We can’t hide, we need to go,” she told him, “please, Four. The others are dealing with it but we need to go now.”

Four shook his head. He didn’t know what he planned to do but he didn’t think leaving the safe confines of his room to escape was wiser than hiding under the bed.

More noise emerged from beyond his door, this time much closer, and Four pulled away from Seven to crawl under the bed.

Seven sighed and he heard shuffling from her. He knew she was going to join him in hiding.

He wasn’t particularly happen about the arrangements, but she was his sister and... he didn’t want to hide alone. He was confused and afraid, and had no idea what was going on.

”Four, you need to go _now. _The shooter is right outside the doo-“

His ghostly brother’s warning was cut off promptly as his bedroom door swung open a second time. Four froze him his effort to get under the bed and turned around to spot the masked shooter his siblings had mentioned.

Self-preservation kicked in and Four grabbed the nearest item, his headphones, and tossed them at the killer. It hit the man’s mask with a metallic clang and fell to the floor along with the mp3 attached.

The man, Four, and Seven all looked at the offending object for a moment before the man attacked. Following him, a second attacker appeared.

Four could barely do anything as the attackers, as well as a hoard of ghosts that were most likely their victims, entered the room and hit him with the butt of their gun.

He was out cold almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proofread yet but lmk what you thought? x
> 
> Also, c-can y’all stop shipping the siblings with each other? Like, i’m genuinely surprised to see that five/ vanya and diego/ klaus are two of the most popular ships in the relationship tag on here... That’s just wrong. idc if they’re adopted, they’re still siblings smh
> 
> Anyways...

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Flowing Insanity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011264) by [ForeverCreepy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverCreepy/pseuds/ForeverCreepy)


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